Shadowed Dawn
by Cheklov's Gun
Summary: Arwen betrays Aragorn, and Legolas is there for him with a sympathetic shoulder and..ahem...open arms. This fic is dead.


Author's Note: Okay, the timeline is weird, but this is AU, so that doesn't matter much.umm...Please review! I thrive on reviews and will most likely curl up and die a painful death if nobody reviews. Flames will be used to heat Leggy and Aragorn's bedroom!  
  
~~~~~DISCLAIMER~~~~~~  
  
Damn It!!! I want these people to be mine! I'll buy them! I have.two pennies and a piece of bellybutton lint! Is it enough? Please say yes! :: sniffles and looks demented:: Do you think the ghost of J.R.R Tolkien would mind what I do to his characters? I think he just might. * * *  
  
The wind howled furiously, mercilessly beating at the leaves and limbs of a mighty tree, in which a dark figure huddled. Despite the rain- slicked condition of the branches, the figure in question clung solidly to the bark. Stranger still, though, was the person's aura of frailty, giving the impression that he could fall at any time, or shatter at the slightest provocation. The aura of a person driven to the brink of sanity by the betrayal of someone who should have cared.  
  
A sudden burst of lightning lit the sky, sending unearthly shadows dancing across the vision of any watching. But, revealed in that brief burst of light, the Man, for that was what he was, was revealed for who he was.  
  
Dark hair, a pure dark chocolate color, ran in blackish tendrils down across a face harshened by the elements. That face was bloodless beneath a deep tan, giving the man a pale, grayish look, one that sat uncomfortably on this usually cheerful person. Glazed eyes gazed blindly up at the storming clouds, eyes a deeper gray then even the haze shrouded sky, but these eyes showed a despair, a lifeless quality that would cause the most optimistic to dread ever causing joy in this most despondent of men.  
  
"Aragorn!" came a cry, ripping through the roar of the storm. The man in the tree, Aragorn, didn't move, didn't even blink against the stinging lash of the rain.  
  
"Aragorn!" again came the call, but the man didn't seem to hear.  
  
Through the driving rain came a staggering figure, leaning into the wind to lessen the resistance. In one pale, wet hand was a weakly flickering lantern, which cast feeble light upon this new person's face. Fair, milky skin, face twisted into a grimace of apprehension, while emerald green eyes restlessly scanned the ground, brush and the trees. Wet, wispy tendrils of golden hair were plastered around the sides of his face. The tips of his two delicately pointed ears disappeared into the recesses of his dark cowl.  
  
Legolas.  
  
He knelt under the tree in which the man sat, and very gently prodded a large, wet mass of wool. Recognizing his friend's cloak, and guessing by the now-fading footprints, he figured the man had taken to the trees, elf style.  
  
At that point, the rain extinguished his lantern.  
  
Dropping the useless lamp, the Elven prince looked up, straining against the darkness to pick out the familiar form, but to no avail. He guessed his friend had already moved on, and had long since been absent of this spot. Legolas sighed, and prepared to move on, when, as the lightning flashed again, bathing the storm-ravaged forest in light.  
  
And there, highlighted briefly against the bark of a massive tree, was the man whom Legolas sought.  
  
Moving swiftly, barely hampered by the weight of his barely dry cloak, he dropped his shortsword and clambered up the tree. He was perching next to Aragorn within seconds.  
  
"Aragorn?" he asked tentatively. The Ranger didn't respond. Worried, thinking perhaps the man asleep, he reached out to carefully shake him awake.  
  
But as soon as the elf came into the lightest contact with the man's bare shoulder, he gasped, suddenly stricken with a horrible fear, as he felt the absolute, icy cold of the human's skin. But as if to alleviate some of the elf's fears, Aragorn jerked away snapped his head as soon as the pressure of contact with another living thing alerted him that he wasn't alone.  
  
Unfortunately, this cause the man to loose his balance, but Legolas was there to swing him back up again, wrapping him in a confining embrace and holding him still as Aragorn tried to push him away. He waited until he could feel the man beginning to regain some warmth, and, making sure that the cloak was firmly latched, then squirmed free, dropping lightly to a lower branch.  
  
Immediately his tunic and leggings were soaked through, but the elf paid no mind to the minor discomfort, and swing back up to his vacated position at Aragorn's side.  
  
Legolas pulled the cowl of the cloak up and over the wet human's head, then started rubbing his arms and shoulders vigorously, intent on getting the man warmed up.  
  
Aragorn looked on in a disinterested manner, irritated by this interruption, when the first sharp pain signaled the return of feeling to his extremities. It finally dawned on him exactly how frigid this night was, and the pure stupidity of being in a tree without a cloak.  
  
Aragorn gently pushed Legolas back, and finished the motion by raising his hand to eye level. He strained, but couldn't seem to do more than make the ends of his fingers twitch. The elf pushed his arm down, and began to once more stimulate the man's blood flow, but Aragorn's numb brain finally registered the potentially lethal cold, and he began to shiver violently. The elven archer took note, and decided to get the man away from there.  
  
"Come with me Aragorn," Legolas tugged lightly on the cloak, "We need to get you back to Rivendell so." The elf trailed off, seeing a familiar stubborn expression and the deliberate negative shake of the head. "Aragorn, please..." The man just flexed his fingers, and turned away, resettling himself on the branch.  
  
Legolas sighed, and wiped away a strand of hair dripping water into his eyes. Even though the elves were barely fazed by even the extremes of temperature, humans, even those raised by elves, were not that lucky. Aragorn would die of exposure if he stayed out in this weather much longer. Legolas decided that he would just have to.guilt the man into returning with him.  
  
"Aragorn!" The elf trained his voice into the most angry and scolding tone he had. "At this rate the weather will kill you! YOU ARE THE FUTURE KING OF GONDOR! You would leave your people on this.a childish whim that could cost you your life, and your people THEIR KING!" Aragorn visibly flinched, then swing around to deliver upon the hapless elf a glare which would make a dwarf quake. Legolas matched the expression with one of his own, but the underlying worry and fear were sketched visibly upon the elven archer's fair features.  
  
Aragorn was stricken by shame at that point, as he sat and saw Legolas's rain-drenched form balancing beside him, trying to convince the man to leave with him, and having all his efforts end badly, still tried to cajole the man into leaving, rather than risk injuring him by using force. Aragorn could see that the elf was nearing the point were he would do everything possible to protect his friend.  
  
Friend. Aragorn bitterly wondered if Legolas would realize the man wasn't worth the effort, as Arwen had so recently pointed out. Aragorn was completely willing to stay out here, and die if fate decreed it.  
  
Legolas recognized the look, and his eyes narrowed, and Aragorn, recognizing THAT look, decided to comply, and leave the tree, for even though he hadn't a care for his own welfare, he wasn't going to allow Legolas to injure himself by dragging Aragorn off.  
  
Finally, he gave a terse nod, and Legolas let out a relived sigh. The elf dropped lightly to the ground and swiftly recovered his sword as Aragorn gingerly felt his way down the tree, cold and fatigue weighing down his limbs with unaccustomed heaviness. The man leaned against the tree, head drooping listlessly, until the elf returned, donning Aragorn's soaked and muddied wrap as protection against the lashing rain.  
  
"Can you run? You should warm up quickly that way." Without waiting for an answer, the elf took the Ranger's wrist and pulled him onto a deer path, rapidly making headway towards Rivendell. Aragorn stumbled a few times, but quickly caught his balance and the pace.  
  
After some time, they reached a point were the trees thinned and eventually led to a vast clearing, at which on the far side Legolas could barely make out the moving lights from the other searchers returning to Elrond's home. The rain had stopped several minutes previous, but the air had taken on an ominous, heavy aura, and become colder, if that was possible.  
  
It was eerie, for nothing moved, except for the elf, the man and the lights, and nothing could be heard but the slurping of the mud that they ran through and Aragorn's harsh breathing.  
  
Legolas glanced nervously up at the black sky, the clouds looming threateningly. The frigid air burned as it was pulled into aching lungs, and left pockets of white mist lingering when exhaled.  
  
Lightning flared almost directly overhead, leaving man and elf shaking heads violently to clear spots. Thunder boomed horrifically loudly, deafening the two.  
  
Dashing through a break in the trees, Legolas slowed abruptly, causing Aragorn to slam into him. They found themselves at the edge of the great meadow. By now Legolas could clearly see the lights and even individual figures on the far end, through a swath of trees.  
  
"Aragorn, wait a few moments," the elf held out a blocking arm when the tired man would have continued on, "catch your breath, then we'll move on." The man nodded, panting, then bent over, hands on knees, and began taking deep, shuddering breaths as the elf tried to gage the remaining distance. "How.much.further?" the exhausted Ranger asked the elf.  
  
Legolas glanced back at Aragorn, disturbed, for the man should not be as tired as he was. The elf knew that Aragorn was capable of running practically nonstop for a full day at the pace they had kept, and not be as weary as he was now. He hoped his friend would last until they reached the searchers.  
  
"Not much further," was the reply, "Maybe, oh, a half mile?" He squinted slightly.  
  
Aragorn nodded, and stood as the thunder rumbled irritably overhead. They set off at a gentle trot through the field, the elf constantly sneaking looks up at the forbidding, swirling clouds, fearing what trick nature would pull next.  
  
It turned out to be hail.  
  
Legolas turned quickly when Aragorn yelped in surprise as a large hailstone hit his shoulder. After that first, painful stone, the hail began pounding down around the two in earnest.  
  
They had been just about halfway through the meadow when the pummeling began, and they broke into a sprint, the elf falling a step behind the man, sweeping his cloak up and using it and his own body as a barrier to protect his exhausted friend from the relentless assault. He winced again and again as the icy stones pounded harshly against his back.  
  
Finally, they made the questionable protection of the trees. Legolas groaned quietly as he reached around to gently rub his bruised and battered shoulders. Aragorn peered back at him through the dim light, having heard the slight noise.  
  
"Are you all right?" Aragorn asked, concerned, for even though he couldn't clearly see the elf, his posture spoke of pain, and the man hadn't felt all that many hailstones hit him. He figured the elf had done something in between the categories of 'chivalrous', 'unhealthy' and 'downright stupid'.  
  
Legolas, grimacing as he moved, nodded, then once more caught hold of Aragorn's wrist, and pulled him on through the trees the last few yards to the search party.  
  
Excited cries and a rush to wrap blankets around the elusive ranger and the elven archer greeted them.  
  
* * * "He seems to have fallen into a state of depression. Something terrible must have happened, for he doesn't seem to care about, well, anything." Elrond quietly remarked to the younger elf beside him, "We haven't been able to make in eat, and we forced water upon him. You were the last one to get him to talk, or even to respond with so much as a nod. I'm very worried about him. I'm also you might be able to jar him out of this stupor."  
  
"Why do you want me to do this?" asked Legolas, though he already fully intended to help as much as he could. The elf as just.curious.  
  
"You are his best friend."  
  
"And your daughter is to be his wife. Would not the Lady Arwen be the one to go about this task?"  
  
"She refused."  
  
"What! Why?"  
  
Lord Elrond hesitated for an instant, seeming to consider how much he could safely speak of. "Well, I'm mostly assuming, so I have a high chance of error, but I believe Arwen and Aragorn have been.well.fighting."  
  
"Them? Fighting? Are you feeling well milord?" Legolas's mouth twisted into a grin, but his humor melted away at the sight of Elrond's grim countenance.  
  
"You're sure? What...what kind of fighting?"  
  
"I believe she may have betrayed him..." Elrond nodded at Legolas's startled and horrified gasp, then continued in a bare whisper, "And you know how much Aragorn loves her."  
  
Legolas stopped dead, aghast at the possible repercussions of Arwen' s act.  
  
"Damn."  
  
* * *  
  
End Note: Well, that sucked. I really don't know if I want to continue this or not. 


End file.
